


The wizard and the wolf

by TheBiPenguin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Hogwarts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-11 09:15:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11145429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBiPenguin/pseuds/TheBiPenguin
Summary: Starting at a new school was hard.Starting in your final year was really hard.Starting in your final year, after being forced to transfer because of a recent werewolf bite your classmates couldn’t move on from, was hell on earth.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Another Hogwarts AU (I know, how original!) 
> 
> And yes, I have used the werewolf bite this one time as a metaphor for HIV (Which I was kind of reluctant to do as I prefer the whole "The bite is a gift" attitude, but, I thought it would be nice to have some dating/acceptance of a HIV positive character.

Starting at a new school was hard.

Starting in your final year was really hard.

Starting in your final year, after being forced to transfer because of a recent werewolf bite your classmates couldn’t move on from, was hell on earth.

 

Derek’s first sighting of Hogwarts was one of pure awe, his neck craned skyward at turrets and spires reaching up towards the night stars. Dirmstrang had been built in the classic gothic style, all grey bricks and square. By contrast, Hogwarts looked like a castle from a fairy tale, whereas Dirmstrang had looked like a fortress designed to withstand a siege.

Unlike the rest of his new classmates, Derek didn’t get the usual welcoming ceremony, no feast, no walk through the great hall to the esteemed sorting hat to be applauded into a house in front of his peers and professors. He was brought quietly on the evening of his arrival to headmistress McGonagall’s office, an outwardly friendly woman but with an unmistakable steel about her and privately sat beneath the snarky headpiece and informed that he was to be in Slytherin.

He’d spent little more than a moment pondering the wicked nature of many of said house’s better known alumni and wondering if his new affliction had affected his sorting before he was handed a green striped tie and whisked away by the surly caretaker, who shuffled hurriedly ahead down the lengthy corridors, with their long-cast shadows, while Derek struggled to drag his cases fast enough to keep pace.

Down and down into the castle’s bowels the pinch faced little man lead him, Filch he thought Professor McGonagall had called him, down below the entrance hall and into the dungeons, so far down Derek despaired to ever see daylight again. The corridors of the castle dungeons were barely furnished, the large grey bricks exposed and without decoration other than the necessary mounted wall torches, which took flame as they approached and slowly died out behind them after their use was spent, returning their path to the timeless dark.

Why any dormitory would be down here was a mystery to Derek, so different was it to the rest of the castle, with its’ brightly lit chandeliers and well-tended portraits lining its corridors. By contrast, he wondered if this part of the castle was even in use, he’d heard that the enchanted interior of Hogwarts was largely uncharted and that certain rooms hadn’t been set foot in since the first founders of the school were in residence.

Many of these rooms they passed, thick heavy wooden doors without windows or signs to indicate their purpose. Classrooms? He hoped not. Storage, maybe? Surely dungeon cells were no longer used for the discipline of students…were they?

After what felt like a marathon walked through the chilled labyrinth under the castle, a faint green glow began to seep through the ceiling. At the end of the final corridor stood a dead end, a brick wall with a single life-sized statue imbedded in it. It was a young, naked women with long, flowing hair and an oversized serpent coiled about her narrow frame preserving her modesty, its’ fanged head reaching out, open mouthed, towards them over her shoulder, as if in hunger.

At this point, Filch shoved a small scrap of parchment into Derek’s hand with a grunt and, wrapping his tattered overcoat close about his gaunt frame, promptly scampered back up the corridor, back towards the light and the warmth of the main castle, leaving Derek alone beneath the ground standing before the stone serpent and his mistress.

The words were scrawled so poorly that he had to read them three times before their meaning became clear.

“Per Angusta Ad Augusta”

The snake let out a vicious hiss as it wrapped itself around its’ mistress’ neck, turning her about to pivot backwards through the wall and off to the left, leaving an open archway where she’d stood. Tentatively, he passed through, the serpentine guardian taking up her former position behind him as he passed.

The Slytherin dormitory was an odd place, composed of very wide rooms with lower ceilings than the rest of the castle, possibly by dint of being underground. The lighting was tinged with green, historically, allegedly because of the lake above and all the furniture was composed of either tightly upholstered black leather or stiff varnished oak. Derek wondered if they truly had walked all the way back to the Black Lake he’d seen as he’d arrived. It wouldn’t have shocked him if he had. It seemed at once an austere environment, lacking warmth despite the green bordered drapes and mounted torches, not entirely different to his dorm back at Dirmstrang.

The thought made Derek’s heart sink. He’d hoped here things would be different, warmer, more accepting.

Derek faced a wide common room, with three stone steps leading down into a square living area, enclosed by black leather sofas, with a roaring fireplace to the left and a staircase, presumably to the dorms, on the right. The room was devoid of windows, large landscape paintings hung in their place, the leaves of their trees swaying as though in the wind. It was an odd combination.

He’d barely made it two steps down when something heavy collided with his back, sending him stumbling, yanking his wand free in a futile attempt at defence as his bags clattered onto the floor to the amused glances of his fellow students as his tormenter danced though the air in circles around him.

“Wha Hey! What we got here then boys and girls?! A neeewww boy!” The ethereal figure was ugly, with blue tinged skin, transparent to the eye and cropped black hair. His nose was flat and his clothes didn’t look as though they’d been changed anytime in the last century, all tweed and dust. The other students paid him no mind but they cast Derek disapproving, almost pitiful looks.

“Abeski!” Derek jabbed at the creature but it dodged almost effortlessly and whirled about him ever faster

“Kinda weak for a guy your age, isn’t it? C’mon big boy, show us watcha got!”

The menacing grin faltered as an aggrieved snarl rose from one of the sofas. This was definitely no snake. A fox, with silky orange and black fur, stood proudly on the upholstery, hackles up and fangs bared. The poltergeist dissipated with a yelp as the snarling creature leapt right through it, transforming in mid-air into a brown haired boy, clad in scuffed jeans and a plain grey T-shirt, his black robes flying about him.

Derek was struck dumb by the transformation, so fluid and well timed. The boy was long limbed with trim build, flawless pale skin scattered with moles and fierce amber eyes.

“Piss off Peeves you half-baked banshee or I’ll trap you in that chamber pot for another week!”

The poltergeist, Peeves apparently, wailed profanities as he fled back up towards the common room entrance and out of sight, leaving Derek scrambling to gather himself and his luggage in the face of the near-angel that had materialised before him, his on-looking classmates now forgotten.

“Sorry about that.” Angel boy smiled. “Few centuries without a life in this place and you’ve got nothing better to do than torment new kids.” He scooped up one of Derek’s bags and slung it over one shoulder before extending one long fingered hand. “I’m Stiles, by the way.”

“Derek,” Stiles had a firm grip, confident, but not trying to overpower. It seemed to convey a surprising maturity within the simple gesture for a boy so young.

“I hoped you might be joining us.” Stiles beamed. “I’m lead prefect for Slytherin house, Professor McGonagall told me we had a new boy joining today. Glad to see you’re one of the snakes.”

Stiles was already making for the staircase, forcing Derek to follow. In all honesty, if there’d been a window to open and Stiles had walked out, Derek probably would’ve followed. The boy was captivating, all soft smiles and pink lips. Not what Derek imagined the head of Slytherin to look like at all.

“I kind of thought…well I kind of heard that maybe Slytherin wasn’t the…nicest of the houses.”

He cringed, hoping that he hadn’t offended, but Stiles didn’t even slow his ascent of the spiral stairs, just laughed exuberantly as he climbed. “Yeah, people love to hate us I’m afraid. but, as a Hogwarts student your first and most important task is to learn the words of your house. Learn them and live by them.”

“And what would they be?”

At the top of the stairs stood two heavy wooden doors, both with thick iron hinges and locks. Stiles took the left doors handle in one hand and pushed it open with surprising ease, revealing a green and black clad interior with rows of luxurious looking beds, each with a large chest at its’ feet.

“By Any Means.” Stiles winked over his shoulder at him as he sauntered over to one of the beds and laid Derek’s bag down upon it with care. “We know what we want here and we get it. And to get what you want,” he turned to meet Derek’s eyes in challenge, “Means having strong allies. We look after our own in Slytherin. You’ll learn that soon enough. Dinner’s in an hour, I’ll show you upstairs if you’re ready in time but I’m not waiting.”

Much to Derek’s shock, Stiles actually slapped him on the buttock as he passed him with a chuckle and then he was gone, closing the door behind him and leaving Derek alone in the institutional looking dorm, to unpack his bags and make some attempt at making himself feel at home.

 

 

It was barely forty minutes later that Derek made his way back downstairs into the Slytherin common room to find Stiles. Already he thought of the boy as his friend, or ally as Stiles had put it, the only other student he’d spoken too so far. He knew that as head prefect, Stiles had been obliged to approach him, but, he hoped it could be more than that. He and Stiles were in the same year, they could be friends. Stiles was entrancing, but, that was an issue for another day.

Such thoughts couldn’t be dismissed, however, as said prefect was currently stretched out across one of the sofas, his T-shirt riding up his flat abdomen exposing a pair of narrow hips as he twirled his wand idly between his fingers, causing paper planes to fly in circular formations above his head.

Across from him sat another boy, darker and with longer hair, who was ranting about something Derek couldn’t hear properly, but he was clearly far more enamoured by the conversation than Stiles was, who sat up suddenly as Derek approached, allowing his planes to fly off course into the fireplace with a splutter.

“Hey, Derek, come join.” Stiles scooted across to allow Derek to squeeze in beside him on the narrow couch. “This is Scott.”

Derek and Scott exchanged that slightly awkward greeting that men give when they’re introduced for the first time, a grunt and a half smile and not a whole lot else.

“Scottie was just rambling, again, about the fact he has managed to fall arse over head for one of the Gryffindor girls.”

Stiles scrunched up his face in mock disgust and elbowed Derek in a call for solidarity.

“I’m telling you, man. Allison is perfect. She’s smart, beautiful, kind. And she’s friends with Lydia.” Scott winked across at them conspiringly, earning him nothing but a scowl.

“How many times, I want nothing to do with that Harpy. It was just a stupid first year crush. Ravenclaw girl.” He clarified for Derek’s sake.

“How about you, Der?” Scott asked as though it was the most casual thing in the world. “You leave a girl behind back at your old school.”

Derek instantly felt his cheeks blush, his sexuality wasn’t really something he wanted to discuss on his first day. “Err…no. Dirmstrang. All boys.” 

“Sucks, dude.”

Derek made a non-committed grunt, hoping that would be where the conversation ended. Luckily Stiles was already on his feet, pulling Scott from his position on the sofa opposite.

“Right. C’mon. I’m starving!”

Scott allowed himself to be dragged to his feet and together the trio made their way back out of the dorm and through the dungeons back to the main castle. Every prison-like corridor they passed through looked the same to Derek and he had to keep stopping to see which way they were going to turn, but, the others manoeuvred as though it were the most blindingly obvious thing in the world, drawn upwards by some sixth sense that Derek had yet to acquire.

“You’ll get used to it.” Stiles assured him, flashing him a toothy smile in the dim light. “No one ever gets lost down here for more than a week.”

Derek chuckled, not thinking until after that maybe Stiles was serious. He wondered whether there was some sort of Theseus’ ball of string charm he could use to keep himself from getting lost and utterly humiliated or worse until he learned his way around.

Scott wafted his hand in front of his face as they took a left, which Derek had been sure was supposed to be a right, onto another corridor of heavy wooden doors. “Potions is taught down here as well, hence the smell.”

Derek laughed, more heartily this time. There was a slight whiff of sulphur in the air.

“That’s our head of house, isn’t it? The potions master.”

“Slughorn, yeah.” Scott wrinkled his nose. “Odd fellow, nicer than the last guy though. Really grim he was. I’m sure they only give us the potions master because we’re in the dungeons together. I wanted professor Hagrid but the Gryffindors snapped him up when McGonagall got promoted.”

“Oh here we go.” Stiles shoved Scott on the shoulder, sending him toppling against the wall for balance. “Our Care of Magical Creatures Professor. You know, if a lousy bowtruckle fell from its’ tree and broke its’ ankle, Scottie would actually make teeny tiny little splints for it.”

Scott shoved Stiles back, sending him tumbling into Derek. “Nothing wrong with that.” He protested.

“So long as you don’t use pencils! Bit touchy about wooden products I’ve heard.”

Derek smiled as he took the flailing Stiles by the bicep to steady him. “That’s cool. Magical creatures is my best subject too.”

Stiles let out a noise which was half laughter and half groan. “Merlin, now there’s two of them!”

Derek shook his head in mock disappointment. “Let me guess, you prefer transfiguration?”

“It’s the most fun!” Stiles grinned widely, lending him a slightly manic look of joy.

“Well that fox transformation was pretty impressive.”

“Thank you, fox is my favourite.” Stiles’ proud smile actually made Derek a little giddy to look at, so full of playful innocence.

“Nah.” Scott declared. “I preferred that time you accidently got stuck as a hat stand. It took us two days for us to figure it out. Besides the laws of transfiguration and insanely complicated and don’t make any sense.”

“You liked it enough when we turned Jackson into an ass last April fools.” Stiles reminded him, turning to Derek. “An ass with hooves, of course.”

“Of course.” Derek laughed as he pushed open the high, ornate doors to the great hall and made his way, with his new friends, to take their seats at the table adorned with the colours of their house. At the far end of the hall he could see the professors’ table, with the Headmistress in her high black pointed hat in the centre, surveying her charges.

The food was in mountains, pies and casseroles and pots of stew materialising from nowhere right in front of them. No queuing, no ordering, nothing.

“Where is it coming from?” The table was becoming so full that Derek was legitimately worried about things getting pushed off onto the floor as new dishes appeared.

“Kitchens, duh.” Stiles spoke through a mouthful of chicken leg, leaning back so that Scott could reach across him and pick a sausage roll off a tower of them which sat precariously upon one of the nearby platters. “We’ve got great staff here. Dig in, mate.”

The food was delicious, cooked to perfection. Derek didn’t even realise how hungry he was until he put the first bite in his mouth. He must’ve eaten his own body weight twice before the three of them waddled back down through the dungeons, which felt a little less sinister already, to slide into their beds where they promptly collapsed to digest their massive meal.

Very serpentine, Derek chuckled as his eyes began to flutter shut. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.

Maybe this wasn’t bad, at all.


	2. Chapter 2

That night Derek slept better than he had any night since his accident. Every night until now he’d been forced to relive his miscalculation in excruciating detail. If he’d only been more careful, less complacent. Sure, it’d only been a cub, but, a werewolf is a werewolf when it’s the full moon and those little buggers are fast. Too fast, as Derek had discovered and just as a werewolf is a werewolf, a bite is still a bite, no matter how small.

Not tonight, though, tonight he dreamt of spires reaching up into clear skies and peaceful waves lapping up against the shores of crystal blue lake to the sound of morning birdsong.

Which is why it was such a bloody shock to be hauled back to the land of the waking to the clanging racket of an iron bell.

“Get up! Wake up, you lazy adolescents,”

The boys of the dorm groaned in unison as they sat up in their beds, bleary eyed and dishevelled, to face the translucent old man with a large beard and ornate robes, who was shaking a large bell in one hand as he glided along the path through the dorm between the two rows of beds.

“It’s another bright, beautiful, god-awful morning. Let’s get up and face her!”

Derek watched in mild horror as the figure turned at the end of the row and promptly walked through the wall and into the girl’s dorm, presumably to continue his tirade.

“That’s our house ghost.” Derek hadn’t even realised that Scott’s bed was directly opposite his own until the boy spoke. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair stood out at more angles than Derek could’ve counted, but, he was already smiling.

“That’s one hell of a wake up call.” Derek stretched his arms over his head, rubbing his flushed face in an attempt to put some life into it.

“Stiles.” The bed next to Scott’s was inhabited by a mound of duvet and protruding limbs, the head of its occupant buried beneath the pillow. “Stiles get up.”

The mound groaned something muffled which sounded affronted, but still didn’t move. Derek smirked as Scott drew his wand and flourished it at his reluctant neighbour.

His smirk fell as Stiles’ duvet and pillow were thrown to the floor, revealing the fair skinned Stiles, dressed in nothing but a pair of boxers with a large red and yellow “S” shaped logo across the buttocks, his head buried in the mattress and his rump up in the air beneath a tangle of long limbs.

Stiles swore, loudly and repeatedly, as he righted himself, amber eyes ablaze. “Scott! What the hell?! I swear, I will hex all your parchment and turn your little love letters to Allison into every embarrassing story there is to know about you!”

Scott was already out of bed and pulling on his robes. “Hey! You asked me to make sure you didn’t sleep in, didn’t he?!”

Derek stammered, barely able to think in the face of an almost naked Stiles. “Er-Yeah. Um…you did, actually.”

“Whose side are you on?” Stiles stuck his tongue out an obscenely long way before scraping his bed hair down with long fingers and scrambling off of the mattress onto the ground to get dressed.

 

The walk down to the greenhouses for Herbology after breakfast was pleasantly sunny, it was just the right point in the year where the clear skies of spring hadn’t quite given way to the swelter of summer.

Herbology wasn’t Derek’s strongest subject, he liked it, for sure and Professor Longbottom was a way more enthusiastic teacher than his last one had been, but, in honesty, Derek was more focused on watching Stiles work on his pots, gently patting down the soil and measuring out the feed as though for a baby, it was amazing the care he took over a task most students approached with heavy, hasty hands, eager to get it out of the way so they could chatter some more.

They were repotting the batch of Venomous Tentacular the school was working on this year, hopefully to be planted along the border of the school grounds in the autumn. At one point one of the long vines whipped about without warning, nipping the tip of one of Stiles’ fingers, causing him to pull back with a yelp.

“Are you okay?”

Stiles flashed a bright smile when he realised he was being watched.

“Yeah, I’ll live. That’s gratitude for you.”

He popped the tip of his wounded finger in him mouth to avoid making a mess and Derek was pretty sure he outright moaned as he watched Stiles’ lips pucker around it, earning him his own bite on the thumb for getting distracted from one of his own pots.

 

By the time there were finished, they were caked in dirt up to their elbows, as well as just about everywhere else. Scott had finished early and therefore been excused, he’d run off eagerly to shower and change and Stiles remarked with faux distain that he was getting lunch with the most perfect girl in the world before afternoon class. He’d laughed as he said it. Although he was yet to meet her, Derek got the impression that Stiles actually quite liked Allison, or was at least pleased to see Scott so happy.

The pair dithered at the back of the group as they made their way back up to the castle, comparing the scratches they’d gained for their various lapsed in care towards the bad tempered Tentacular.

From the entrance hall, the cohort split off back towards their various dorms to shower. Derek was about to turn down towards the dungeons with the rest of their house when Stiles took his wrist and guided him up the steps towards the main staircases in the central tower.

“Where are we going?” Derek hadn’t been given the full tour, but he knew already from his trip to the Professor McGonagall’s office on the fifth floor that the square tower, with its seven floors and four corridors leading from the corners of each floor where the staircases met, when they felt like it, was a fantastic place to get lost.

“Fourth floor, east wing.” Stiles had let go of Derek’s wrist, trusting him to follow. In the crowded corridors Derek was practically tripping on Stiles robes to avoid being separated as they scrambled through the throng of noisy students and frustrated professors to the fourth floor corridor leading into the east wing of the castle.

“What’s up here?”

Stiles didn’t answer as they came to a small door at the end of a dead end side-corridor, again with no signage or window and this time, no handle or keyhole either. It looked like a broom cupboard, only Derek had no idea how you’d get in or out.

“Pine Fresh.”

The gears of the doors concealed locks ground audibly until the door swung gently inwards. Derek caught sight of Stiles’ mischievous grin as he shuffled them both inside and shut the door behind them.

It took a moment before the torches took light and the room became visible. It was actually much larger than Derek had expected, with smooth tiled flooring and stained glass windows of mermaids and various sea creatures.

Along the left of the room were a line of toilet stall, with a row of sinks and mirrors on the right. At the end of the stalls, in front of the windows, the mermaid of whom, Derek realised, was combing her hair absently, the room opened up to reveal a deep bath carved into the floor. Above it hung a sign of golden, joined lettering.

Prefect’s Bathroom.

“I figured the dorm bathrooms would be packed and I didn’t want to be late to lunch.” Stiles didn’t look back at the aghast Derek as he approached the bath, stripping off his clothes as he went. Derek followed and was relieved to see that Stiles was actually heading for a square area of communal showers off to the right.

Derek made an affirmational grunt as he watched Stiles lay his clothes one of the wooden benches and step, uninhibited, into the showers, his lithe form carrying him effortlessly into the stream of steaming water that was already waiting for him.

With great awkwardness, Derek placed his own clothes next to Stiles’ and joined him, taking the shower as far away as he could, a total of ten foot in the small room, trying desperately to look anywhere except at Stiles.

He did spare one glance, he had been about to ask where he could find soap. Stiles was already lathered, the water foaming on his soft skin as he rubbed his palms against it, as though the water was somehow already soap infused. Derek rubbed against his scalp, to the same strange effect. It felt amazing to wipe the dirt and sweat of their morning’s work from his skin. Under any other circumstances, it would’ve been the most relaxing sensation Derek had ever felt.

As it was, however, he was far too anxious about his overhyped teenage hormones making a fool of him in the shower with Stiles to relax at all. It felt like an eternity until Stiles stepped out of the water and went to retrieve towels from the cupboard. Derek gave him a minute to cover himself before stepping out and going to get his own towel.

To his horror, Stiles was already stood with their clothes and turned to face him head on as Derek approached to pass him a second towel he’d gotten.

“Here you go, Der.” Stiles smile was completely natural and serene as Derek hastily wrapped the cloth around his waist. It was fine, he assured himself. Stiles would just think that Derek was well endowed, not that he was half excited, despite his best efforts, from seeing Stiles in the shower.

Stiles’ own towel was wrapped tight around his slim hips, less muscular than Derek’s Quiditch built frame but equally toned. Stiles played, definitely, he and Scott had talked about an upcoming match, but, Derek was a born beater, whereas Stiles had the agile physique of chaser, or a seeker possibly.

He tried to fill his head with thoughts of sports, thoughts of anything as he dried himself other than how tight Stiles’ towel was against his buttocks, how much Derek wanted to see Stiles’ beautifully crafted body again, even though he’d been trying to do anything but just minutes before.

He almost squeaked with surprise as said buttocks were bared to his eyes again as Stiles dropped towel to step into his underwear. Derek was growing too frustrated now, shoddily buttoning his trousers shut to cover his embarrassment.

“What’s that?” He froze in paranoid horror, even as the other boy took his wrist in his long fingers and turned it over.

“That’s…erm, a werewolf bite.” He admitted, expecting Stiles to release his hold on Derek’s scarred forearm as though it had burned him.

“Oh.” Stiles didn’t seemed shocked or dismayed. He didn’t offer condolences or recoil in disgust as Derek’s previous classmates had. “It must have been a little one.”

“Yeah. My fault, not theirs. They can’t help it.”

Stiles nodded. “Accidents happen, lucky we’ve got wolfs bane potions these days to help control it.” And that was it, Stiles gently released Derek’s wrist, leaving him longing for the touch of his skin, as he pulled on his shirt and began doing up his tie.

Derek just stood for a moment and stared in amazement at the boy he’d met.

 

 

“So, let me get this straight. You took a shower with Stilinski and didn’t end up banging on the bathroom floor?”

Her bluntness made Derek cringe. “No, Erica, we didn’t. I didn’t want to make things awkward. Stiles has been really kind to me and I don’t want to ruin that.”

Erica was the house gossip. A fellow final year and renowned queen of the duelling club, she was as unashamed as Stiles but ten times as fierce. While Stiles had gentle, soft features, Erica was the incarnation of an avenging angel, flawless and terrifying all at once.

“You wouldn’t have, trust me.” Erica took an apple from the bowel of fruit sat on the coffee table between the common room sofas and bit into it loudly. “You’d so much as winked at him and he’d have tackled you to the ground before you knew what was happening, he’s been chaser for the team three years running for a reason.”

Derek huffed at her ridiculousness. “Just because he could, doesn’t mean he would’ve.”

Erica was already shaking her blonde curls in disagreement, another mouthful of fruit being crunched into oblivion between her pearly whites.

“Yes he would…and you’d have loved it.”

This Derek couldn’t really disagree with her there, his body’s response to the sight of Stiles had been pretty clear, but, he wasn’t about to let Erica’s victorious, red-lipped smile go unchallenged.

“I don’t want it like that.” He blurted, earning him a raised eyebrow.

Liar, it said.

“Not just…sex.” He half whispered the word, suddenly extra aware of the other students milling about the common room.

Erica shrugged, her long curls bouncing. “Well, it’s Saturday tomorrow. Why don’t you take him out in Hogsmead for dinner? The Three Broomsticks is nice.”

Now that idea Derek could work with.


	3. Chapter 3

Derek spent the whole afternoon getting ready to ask Stiles to have dinner with him, much to Erica’s amusement. He washed and gelled his hair three times before he was happy with it, changed clothes twice and reworded exactly how he wanted to phrase the all-important question at least fifty times.

He found Stiles sitting cross legged on his bed surrounded by open textbooks, frowning at a table-top sized, grand-father clock on the mattress in front of him. Or more specifically, he was frowning at the patches of pale feathers sticking out from the items exposed gears. Derek suspected that the clock had actually been an owl until very recently.

Derek perched himself on the edge of Scott’s bed, suddenly nervous. “Er…Stiles.”

“Hey, Der-bear.” Stiles didn’t look up from his project, tugging at the lodged feathers experimentally, earning him an odd sounding squawk in between ticks. “I can’t believe the mid-terms are only three weeks away, I’m so not ready.”

Derek smiled as he watched Stiles’ tongue poked out from between his lips as his concentration deepened. “I’ve got a feeling that you’re gonna do just fine.”

Stiles huffed but still didn’t look up. “Well, I can kiss my outstanding in transfiguration goodbye unless I can figure out where I’m going wrong with this.”

Derek stood and took a cautious step closer, feeling that he should probably be more concerned by how totally perplexed he was by the seemingly endless text and complex diagrams Stiles had surrounded himself with.

“Would you like to take a break and go get something to eat?”

That got Stiles’ attention. His head snapped up so fast it actually made Derek jump, suddenly aware of just how tense he was.

“You mean…grab something to eat like when Scott drags us all the way down to Madam Rosmerta’s because he claims the waffles are better than the school ones, or like…”

Derek started to shuffle his feet against the floorboards but caught himself and forced his treacherous limbs to still, fully aware of how much of a dork it was making him look. Stiles, for his part, was smirking up at him, a knowing glint in his eye.

“I was thinking more of…like a date sort of thing.”

Stiles looked away, his smile widening, carefully closing each of the books he had open while Derek desperately fought the urge to full on writhe within his own skin. After an excruciating length of time Stiles pushed himself forwards off the bed so that they were stood face to face, just inches apart. There was no way that at this distance Stiles wouldn’t see every twitch Derek made. He exhaled as quietly as he could, steeling himself for Stiles’ answer.

“I’d like that.” Those three syllables passing between Stiles’ lips had a greater effect on Derek than any spell he’d ever heard. He could already feel his heart slowing, a satisfied grin tugging at his cheeks as Stiles slipped his hand into Derek’s. “Told you that you were one of us.”

For a moment, Derek didn’t know what he meant. “We know what we want.” He remembered fondly. “And we get it.”

Stiles’ smile became impossibly wider, the corners of his eyes crinkling with what Derek thought was pride.

“Damn right we do.”


End file.
